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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130450">Foolin' Around in the Kitchen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_by_Proxy/pseuds/Goodneighbor_Neighbor'>Goodneighbor_Neighbor (Fan_by_Proxy)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Commonwealth Kinks [2019 Prompt List] [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cock Warming, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Kitchen Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:47:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,393</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fan_by_Proxy/pseuds/Goodneighbor_Neighbor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After dropping off a heavy load of tools to Vault 81, Hancock and the Sole make a pitstop at a rare and lucky find in the Commonwealth. To no one's surprise, fooling around happens, but [like always] there's more to it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Hancock &amp; Female Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Commonwealth Kinks [2019 Prompt List] [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Foolin' Around in the Kitchen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hancock sat tipped back in the one good kitchen chair, cigarette between his lips and arms folded across his chest, just watching Yvette at the sink. Finding running water in a busted house was some kind of dumb luck. Maybe it still ran because there was a Vault close enough by and the system was all connected, or something. He didn’t know; he wasn’t a pipes man. But they had water, privacy, and weren’t dragging every kind of goddamn wrench around with them anymore. Hancock had to admit, as he watched Yvette in the dim light from the lantern, the caps had been <em>damn</em> good. Who knew hammers and screwdrivers could be such premium finds? Less good--in fact, pretty goddamn awful--had been the stares and the comments. He couldn’t blame <em>her </em>for that, that was just good old fashioned bigotry that he had forgotten to count on going that deep under ground and she never thought of until it was put dead in front of her.</p><p>As he watched her work at the sink, making bubbles with the thin stream and putting their food things through a hard wash…along with her underwear…Hancock wondered if maybe things were harder on her than she let on. Sure, it was a <em>great</em> time fooling around all over the place, but at almost every settlement, almost every trade-post: she put herself in front of him, and she did the introductions like she was trying to put up a shield between him and the usual comments while he just stood there acting like it was no big deal. Someday she was going to get tired of doing that--had to get tired of <em>doing</em> that, because he was already tired of having it done. Hell, he’d been tired of the kind of shit thrown at Ghouls since before the Big High.</p><p>Hancock took a deep drag, tasting the bitterness of burnt filter before stabbing out the rest of it and letting the smoke seep out of him. “How’s it goin’ over there, beautiful?” he called out.</p><p>“Slow, but steady. It is lucky this place was not completely empty!” Yvette called back as she rubbed the Abraxo into a stubborn rust spot on their cooking pan. She probably should have waited to try and scour their traveling gear when they got back to Goodneighbor, but after the ridiculousness at Vault 81, they had <em>both </em>needed a break. A house with running water and boards in the right places, and a mattress that wasn’t rife with with crawling things or bloodstains out in the Commonwealth? It was too good a chance to walk by.</p><p>“Yeah, lucky.” Hancock echoed, getting up. Between his bad mood and the fact that his gal (at least for now) was wearing nothing but a shirt that didn’t quite cover her cheeks, he was feeling a little like making trouble. “Sure you wouldn’t rather be back at 81? They probably got a better stream than this.” He said as he sidled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing against her.</p><p>“<em>Jean</em>! I am trying to wash!” Yvette scolded, reaching back to swat him as he did a little grind against her. “You are worse than a teenage boy!” she teased.</p><p>“Well when a gal’s got nothin’ on and a guy’s already been on her, you can’t blame him.” Hancock countered, hands going to her hips to pull her back away from the sink a little. The way she let him had him starting to come out of his boxers already. “And you didn’t answer my question.”</p><p>“<em>Non</em>, I would not want to be in the Vault, what a silly thing to ask.” Yvette said dismissively as the poke against her butt got more pronounced. “I hate the smell of the Vault--and my company is much better here, even if he is being <em>naughty</em>!” she swatted at him again.</p><p>Hancock licked his lips. “Well don’t let me interrupt your work, beautiful. Pay no attention to the Ghoul creeping behind you.” he reached down and gave himself a few strokes, nudging his head against the crease between her gorgeous thigh and nice round cheek.</p><p>She couldn’t help laughing. “What game are you playing, you bad man?” Yvette demanded, feeling a tingle as Hancock’s tip left a trail along her skin.</p><p>He did a quick check with his fingers; she was still kind of wet from their earlier fooling around, and he figured if he didn’t start hard, she’d be ok. “You’re busy, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>“<em>Oh</em> we are being spiteful now, huh?” Yvette demanded, feeling Hancock’s fingers slip between her lips and reach deep to tease. “Fine, do not interrupt me and I will not interrupt you.”</p><p>Hancock licked his lips and started to ease in. “Yes <em>ma’am</em>.” He did it slow, watching his cock just disappear, feeling her wrap around him all sweet and tight like she always did. He walked a step forward, jolting her and making sure he was in deep.</p><p>Yvette stifled a groan; he was being so gentle and careful, not just assuming because it had only been a little while since the last time that she would be just as ready for him. If they were not playing a willful game--and that was what this must surely be--she would tell him she liked it when he was slow at the start, when he let her feel every ridge and twist of his cock. Maybe, if she could remember to, she would tell him later. Then he gave her that little jolt, let her feel the power of his hips against her; she nearly dropped the pan in the sink.</p><p>“You’re not scrubbing, beautiful. Am I <em>interrupting</em>?” Hancock leaned on her to whisper in her ear, hands under the shirt to grab her hips; he wanted to touch her skin, feel the smoothness, maybe bruise it. She didn’t bruise too easily on most of her body, but something about that striped skin across her hips that was so soft just bloomed purple so easily when he dug into it like this.</p><p>“Of course not; have you never used scouring powder before <em>Jean</em>? It is not an immediate thing.” Yvette forced her voice low, to keep it level as Hancock started to move. If she bent forward a little more, got her forearms on the edge of the sink, she could brace and at least pretend to work on the pan and the dishes.</p><p>“Oh, well <em>excuse</em> me; guess I just don’t know any better.” Hancock growled, feeling her squeeze and press back against him. He kept his thrusts deep at first, to wait for her to loosen up and get wetter he told himself; he was just in a little bit of a bad mood, and since she was willing to play along, he could get a little mean--but not <em>that</em> mean.</p><p>“Obviously, from the state of this--of this pan.” Yvette managed to reply as he ground against her, barely pulling back, keeping all of his attention deep. The constant rubbing in that one place was starting to make her feel very tender, and sensitive; very aware of the ridges all along his shaft that she could just sink into.</p><p>“Pardon <em>me</em> Miss Yvette, we Ghouls just don’t keep up with those things like you all do.” he didn’t know why he was going at her like this--it wasn’t her fault, she didn’t deserve him huffing sarcastically at her while he was working her up.</p><p>“G-G-Ghoul thing? Ha!” Yvette thought she did a rather good job hiding a rush of pleasure under the ‘ha’. “<em>Non, non Jean</em>, I think it is because you wash like a--”</p><p>Hancock steadied his grip on her and drew back, leaning away so he could hit her at a different angle. The end of her sentence came out in a squeal. “What’s the matter, beautiful? <em>Distracted</em>?” he demanded as her slickness started to soak the front of his boxers as it ran down him. The way his turtleneck had gone, all puffy and twisted and ridged like it was, had bothered him for a while; still bothered him sometimes, until he focused on the way an excited girl ran down him. It made things messier, but he liked the way it looked.</p><p>“Not-not-not in the least!” Yvette lied, making a halfhearted swipe at the pan before dropping it. Hancock was holding onto her hard, pulling her hips back further; if she didn’t get the soap off her hands she wouldn’t be able to grip the edge of the counters when she finally gave in. And she would give in first; Hancock was learning her weak points fast, knew how to roll his hips and where to drive at her to get her weak and silly.</p><p>“Well good, because I’m almost done.” he growled. That was a lie; as slick as she was getting and as much as she was squeezing him, he wasn’t close to being done. Old anger got him up and kept him up, until either he got tired or someone managed to get him off. And not to doubt Yvette’s <em>incredible</em> ability to get him off just about every time, but the tally of indignities they both went through every time they ran around outside of Goodneighbor together had him pretty goddamn riled.</p><p>“So am I!” She gasped. This was not a lie; if he kept thrusting hard <em>up</em>, making her rise on her toes with the force, she was going to be <em>done</em> very soon. Yvette managed to stretch her fingertips to the stream, get enough soap off her hands so she didn’t feel like her palms were going to slide off as she grabbed the edge of the sink desperately.</p><p>Hancock saw her hands go for the edge of the sink, heard the squeak as her wet fingers tried to get a grip on the metal. Suddenly, he wanted to see her face, <em>needed</em> to see her face when she got off <em>because of him</em>. “Well, if you’re done.” He forced himself to stop and pull out, looking down at the cream she’d left all over him.</p><p>Yvette groaned. To hell with pride; there was no shame in telling Hancock for probably the hundredth time since they had gotten this kind of intimate that she wanted him. She looked back over her shoulder at him pleadingly. “Ok, you win! <em>Tu est le vainquer!</em>” Yvette whined. “I am distracted, you distract me and I need you!”</p><p>Hancock swallowed; there she was all bent over, dripping, begging for him. Telling him he won…but did he deserve to?</p><p>“<em>Je-e-ean</em>!” She didn’t know what else she was supposed to say; she had admitted distraction, gave up pretending disinterest. What else could she do to make him come back and finish?</p><p>He couldn’t resist; she was too warm and too needy and too right there to resist. Hancock thrust back into her so hard and mean it made her cry out as her hips smacked into the counter. “Keep looking at me, <em>keep lookin’ at me, beautiful</em>!” he demanded as he wrapped his arms around her and got a hand at her throat and jaw. It was probably uncomfortable for her but he needed to see at least a little bit of her face. His other hand grabbed the counter, for leverage and to pin her harder.</p><p>Yvette couldn’t see much of him from the corner of her eye and her neck ached at the angle and the counter bit into her, but none of it mattered because he was hammering <em>that</em> spot and she felt the fire from her toes to the ends of her hair. “<em>Oh Jean, oh Jean</em>,” she moaned over and over, “hold me, hold me please hold me <em>I am coming, hold me Jean!</em>” she cried out.</p><p>Hancock let go of the counter and her neck, wrapped his arms around her tight as she shook and squeezed and moaned before sagging against him. It didn’t sound fake, didn’t <em>feel</em> fake as the front of his boxers got that much wetter. He huffed against the side of her head, but the urge to pop had disappeared, leaving him like it always did: too goddamn hard and goddamn miserable.</p><p>She didn’t feel a burst of warmness, or him pull out. That was unusual. “I am sorry <em>Jean</em>…I guess I am still tender from before, and I went too fast.” Yvette reached back to touch his hips. “Still, I am not sore, we can go on.”</p><p>That generosity hurt him in a weird way. “It’s ok, beautiful, it ain’t you. It’s me, I’m just…I’m in a bad mood.” Hancock admitted as he made himself loosen his grip and pull back from her.</p><p>Yvette turned around, head cocked. “Can I help? I can help.” she said, touching his arm. “We can go upstairs to the bed, and I will make you feel better.” she smiled.</p><p>He shouldn’t do that, Hancock thought; he should stay down there and chain-smoke his way through this bad mood. Couldn’t bury it under chems, he didn’t bring enough and besides…he couldn’t leave her short a shooter if some damn fool Raider got the bright idea to walk in.</p><p>“Come on, let us go up the stairs.” Yvette said, patting his hips before sidestepping to head towards the stairs.</p><p>“What about the dishes?” Hancock asked.</p><p>She turned back to him with a smile that made her nose wrinkle. “Let them soak.”</p><p>He couldn’t help but laugh at that.</p><p> </p><p>Hancock followed her up the stairs, watched her pull off the shirt and fold it up neatly, setting it on the bed for a pillow and lie down. She had her feet on the mattress, legs open, arms out.</p><p>“I…” <em>Goddamn</em> that was tempting. “I can’t, beautiful. Bad mood like this, just gotta wait for it to go down.” he said, gesturing to his still-hard cock.</p><p>“We do not have to fuck, <em>Jean</em>.” Yvette said reassuringly. “You can just be here with me, and I will hold onto you, and you can tell me what is wrong and feel better, and then maybe later you will come. Or you won’t, but you will be happier and warm.”</p><p>It was <em>such </em>a tempting offer; like the first freebie of a fresh batch from Fred. Just slot back in, let her pet on him, maybe hump a little when the mood wasn’t so bad. But then that would just put him back down all over again, because he’d have to get up and wipe her down and did they even have any meds on them?! “Beautiful, I--”</p><p>“<em>Jean</em>, your beautiful girlfriend is lying here, sopping wet for you, arms out for you, telling you to come to her so she can make you feel better. If you are worried you may not pull out in time, we have medicine, and <em>I</em> am not worried. Are you <em>really</em> going to say no again?” Yvette said firmly. She hadn’t meant to slip into that tone--what <em>Martin</em> used to call her ‘referee’ voice--but she had.</p><p>Damned if she didn’t know how to stack the deck against him, getting all bossy on top of being sexy. But, Hancock thought as he sat on the edge of the bed instead of diving between her thighs, he didn’t have to go farther than <em>this</em> seat. “I’m not saying <em>no</em>, beautiful, I just…I’m in a bad mood.”</p><p>Yvette rested her hand on his arm. “Talk to me. Tell me what is making you unhappy, and then we can go and shoot it.”</p><p>Hancock snorted, shaking his head. “It ain’t a thing you can shoot, beautiful. Not even with your aim.” he sighed. “Beautiful, you ever just…get tired of it? I mean when you and me are out doing things.”</p><p>“Tired of what?” Yvette frowned. “The walking? Yes, but that is kind of the way we have to move.”</p><p>He shook his head, snorting again. “No, I mean…we come up on some place, or somebody, and they don’t shoot us--you stand kinda in front of me. <em>You</em> introduce us, you make sure to call me the Mayor and talk up Goodneighbor…and you stand in front of me the whole time you’re doing it.”</p><p>“I am…sorry?” she said slowly. “I guess it is rude?”</p><p>“No,” Hancock made a frustrated noise, “Look, it ain’t that you do it--I actually kinda like the way you announce me, it sounds real classy and important when you do it--it’s that the first thing you do is get in front of me…like you’re gonna take a bullet for me, if they decide to shoot the Ghoul first and ask questions never.”</p><p>It was Yvette’s turn to snort. “I am sorry <em>Jean</em>, it is a thing I do now, apparently. You are not the first person to say to me ‘stop being the bullet shield’. When Nick and I are out? I move in front of him. Myself and Piper? I have pushed her back to become in front of her; I am not thinking when I do this, it is simply…the Commonwealth is dangerous, and I love my friends. I love <em>you</em>. So I get to the front.” She started to rub his arm. “I am sorry, I do not mean to be so rude to you; I honestly did not know I did it until Nick said to me to stop, and I realized I cannot because I do not know I do it, I simply move and <em>voila</em> there I am.”</p><p>Hancock shook his head. “It ain’t that it’s rude--I mean I wish you wouldn’t, because I <em>don’t</em> want you gettin’ shot, especially on account of me--it’s…it’s that you feel like you gotta, even if you’re not thinking about it like right up here,” he tapped his forehead, “because I’m a Ghoul, and outside of Goodneighbor that’s a goddamn dangerous thing.”</p><p>Yvette patted his arm. “Is this about earlier? In the Vault?” she patted her chest. “Come here to me <em>Jean</em>. Please. Let me hold you.”</p><p>He sighed. “Yeah, alright. You sure you’re uh…?” Hancock didn’t feel <em>quite</em> as confident assuming she was still warmed up enough for him as he had been earlier.</p><p>Yvette nodded.</p><p>Hancock got onto the bed, crawling up to her and slotting in. She was <em>definitely</em> still good to go, and it <em>was</em> nice to slip inside someone warm and slick instead of hanging out in the air throbbing like an angry bastard. It took a little turning to get situated though; Yvette was just enough shorter than him that he couldn’t be deep AND have his head on those fantastic breasts. But if they turned to the side, and she threw her leg over his hip, he could be deep and wrap his arms around her, and she could wrap her arms around him, and they could still talk. “It’s stupid. It wasn’t anything new, wasn’t even anything that smart. Just…hit me wrong today, I guess.”</p><p>Yvette rubbed his back, kissing his chest. “<em>Jean</em>, you are not being unreasonable to be angry for being disrespected. Without knowing you, even as you bring to them tools they <em>desperately</em> need, they have the nerve to insult you? It is bad manners, first, and then it is unnecessarily unkind! For no reason, for <em>no</em> reason.” she repeated.</p><p>He sighed. “Yeah, and that’s how it is. I’m used to it, beautiful; upside of the rads is I got damn thick skin.” Hancock tried to joke. He shifted his grip to press her tighter against him.</p><p>“It still does not mean you can brush it away, la-la it does not matter, because your feelings are still there. And you <em>should</em> feel them, you <em>have</em> to feel them, or else they grow and grow until you cannot manage them and you will hurt yourself trying.” Yvette replied.</p><p>Hancock took a deep breath, looking down at her face. She was looking up at him so seriously and so sincere, petting him, holding him safe inside. “I guess…I guess it probably was just…ya know, you talking to the kids. It got me in a way I’m not used to brushing off…la-la.” he tried to smile a little for her.</p><p>“Did I say something wrong?” Yvette hugged him tight. “I am sorry--”</p><p>“No, no, beautiful--you didn’t. That’s just it, what you said…” Hancock trailed off. The comments, the asides, the side-eyes; that wasn’t anything to write home about. He could ignore most of it, and what he couldn’t, he got back as good as he gave and Yvette didn’t really correct him. But then that teacher had come out, had asked Yvette to talk to the kids again--tell’em some kind of safe-for-little-ears Commonwealth story (apparently a regular thing when she came to the Vault)--and made him stand outside. Like he was gonna scare the room. Yvette had decided to tell them about Goodneighbor…in really cleaned up terms. And then one of the kids had asked her if she wasn’t afraid all the ghouls there would go feral and try to eat her. The way she answered…it was still rattling around his head hours later.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Michael, a person who is a Ghoul is still a person. No different from you, or from me, except how they look to us! And we look very different to them, but we are all still people.” She was smiling so bright. “We do not look at our friends and say ‘oh you have freckles, you are too different, if you stay near me I will hurt you’, do we?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The kids gave back a chorus of ‘no’.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And to our friends, and our parents, and our family who have scars, we do not look at them and say ‘oh that is so ugly, you should feel bad, go away from me’, do we?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Another high chorus of ‘no’.</em>
</p><p><em>Yvette untucked her shirt from her pants and pulled it up to show the raised scars on her side from that brush with the Deathclaw at the sink hole; the ground giving away was the only reason she was even still </em>there<em>. “This skin is no different than my friend Jean’s, except this came from a Deathclaw and his came from radiation.”</em></p><p>
  <em>About that time the teacher was out of her seat and jumping in front of Yvette, dismissing the class and turning on her. He hadn’t been able to catch what was said, as the kids were filing past him and sneaking peeks and outright staring. The last one out, a dark-haired little girl with bright green eyes, stopped. “Is it true?” she’d said. “Miss Yvette’s scar is just like your scars except they happened different ways?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not quite the way he’d put it, not any kind of way he would have put it, but Yvette going up in front of that group of kids, to try and get’em to be a little more chill, he wasn’t gonna disagree. “That’s right; she fought a Deathclaw, and I didn’t eat my veggies.” The kid had laughed and gone on her way…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It was good, what you said. Not entirely true, I <em>am</em> different to you in that I can soak up the rads better and…and maybe I could be dangerous. I mean more dangerous than I already am.” He tried to make it a joke but it wasn’t; he’d seen enough friends get lost and wander off to die to know it wasn’t ever going to <em>be</em> a joke--not for any of them. “I dunno, maybe I’m just…dreading the day you get tired of singing that song for people. Hell, <em>I</em> get tired of it and I gotta live that tune.”</p><p>Yvette blinked, not quite understanding. “How can I get tired of a true thing? The truth can be tiring, yes, but just because you are tired of it does not make it suddenly untrue.”</p><p>Hancock sighed. He didn’t think he was going to be able to get her to understand; hell he didn’t even really understand himself. “It just gets me down sometimes then, that’s all.”</p><p>Yvette nodded. “<em>That</em> I can understand.” she hugged him tighter, wiggling and rocking her hips to keep him snugged up. It was amazing to her that he could sound so down and have so much anger, and it not make him soft. “So I will hold you, and be with you, and maybe the bad mood will go away faster, because you do not have to look at it all by yourself.”</p><p>Feeling her tighten all around him, nestle into him, reassure him: he didn’t deserve a goddamn second of it. “Beautiful?”</p><p>“<em>Oui, Jean?</em>” she was starting to get tired; Hancock was warm and she was surprisingly comfortable for them being in a lucky-find in the Commonwealth.</p><p>“You know you’re too good for me?” he asked.</p><p>“Maybe. Or maybe we are both just bad enough that we make a balance.” She yawned.</p><p>Hancock couldn’t help chuckling. “Go to sleep, beautiful. Trust me, I’ll be here when you wake up…if I don’t wake you up.” he looked down at her and bounced his brow; even when he’d had hair he hadn’t been able to wiggle his brows, but he still managed to get the point across.</p><p>She snorted. “<em>Terrible</em>.”</p><p>“Yeah…pretty much am, but here you are.” Hancock replied.</p><p>“Yes. <em>Here</em> am I.” Yvette replied firmly.</p><p>That look in her eye: that steely, direct, unflappable look…it gave him the shakes every time he saw it. She was stubborn, and defiant, and crazy, and just…just so goddamn perfect. Hancock kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, beautiful.” he repeated. “Promise, I’ll wake you up if I need some more talking-to.”</p><p>She nodded, hugging him tight again before pressing her cheek to his chest.</p><p>Hancock laid awake for a good long while after she dozed off; just focusing on the steady rhythm of her breathing and the way she just felt around him. He even started to go soft, though his mood was still pretty rotten and raw. But this was better than trying to bury it with chems or a fight…this was a lot better.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's probably weird to write unsuccessful sex that's still some kind of successful, but I started working on the prompt and it struck me that as much fun as it is to write the super dirty and successful kind, there's also a real validity to the kind that's not as successful in terms of outcome, but you get that emotional climax (that is probably very poor phrasing lol...) Timeline-wise we're in the "physically hooked up and starting to show emotional vulnerabilities regularly but not totally THERE" early stages :D Not that it matters, because good communication knows no timelines or limits :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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